


Why Can't I Cross the River

by BeesKnees



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Character Death, Haunting, His Father's Son, Rebellion, Revolution, the revolution is a failure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 04:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the revolution fails, his son is reaped, and Johanna Mason's ghost won't stop laughing at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Can't I Cross the River

"Do you know what I heard, Finnick?" Caesar Flickerman asks, and his smile is wide, all teeth. He brushes his hand over Finnick's knee, like he does to tributes during their interviews. A brief touch that's supposed to serve as an anchor point to the horrifying present; you can't escape. 

Finnick forces himself not to flinch. He forces himself to smile, like he's been doing all night. He ignores the way that everyone in the room is turned toward them; he ignores the woman who is draped over his shoulders from behind. He can't even remember her name, he realizes belatedly. He's spent an entire week with her before, and she wept when she saw him tonight. But her name seems to have been scrubbed from his memory.

Caesar is still smiling, still holding his audience in rapture, and Finnick realizes he needs to signal for Caesar to go on. He tilts his head forward, feels the strings being pulled.

"I heard," Caesar leans in closer. So does everyone in the room. "That while you were gone, Annie Cresta gave birth to a boy in District Four." He pauses for dramatic effect. "A boy with seagreen eyes."

And it's unfortunate that in that moment Johanna Mason's ghost decides to lean backward into the couch Finnick is sitting on and laugh maniacally in his ear.

...

He is in Snow's office. He doesn't know how he got there. He doesn't even know how he got back from the party, come to think of it. He blinks a few times, too hard, and that's not enough to bring him back to reality -- but the pull of too-small stitches across the skin of his back is. They are uncomfortable against the too-tight shirt he wears, but it's at Snow's insistence that he come away from this collision with some scars. (Can you imagine, can you, that there's somebody who has dared to scar Finnick Odair in a way that cannot be fixed? Can you imagine? That poor boy. Everyone will see what was done to him for the rest of his life.)

"You're looking well, Finnick," Snow says, smiling and beginning with paltry bullshit he doesn't mean. Finnick knows what he looks like; he knows he doesn't look like Finnick Odair. He looks like a cheap parody, but he supposes that's the point. 

"Thank you, sir." Each word is a struggle to get out.

"I suspect you might be interested in returning to District Four," Snow says, watches him, measures his response. 

Finnick tries not to have one. Katniss paces at his back. Finnick blinks to make her go away, but she becomes more defined, eyes outlined in heavy black and red makeup. It's a trap, she tells him, and he wants to say, I know, I know. You think I don't see the trap? But he also wants to say, Do you think there's a single trap of his I haven't fallen into? The revolution was a trap. We all sure as hell fell into that one.

This kid sure as hell ain't yours anyway, Haymitch says, and Finnick thinks, God, not you, too; it's only been Katniss and Johanna until this point. They snip-snip all the victors, Haymitch continues, wry grin. 

Finnick wonders what's worse. That this boy might be his and Annie's, or that he might not. 

"Finnick," Snow says sternly, and Finnick focuses back on him. He realizes he hasn't said anything yet. He smiles, wonders if he's far enough gone that he qualifies as medically insane. He wonders if he was there when he volunteered for the arena at the age of fourteen.

"What do I need to do to go back to District Four, sir?" Finnick asks through his gleaming smile, and this time Snow smiles back at him. He's been unerringly proud of himself ever since he squashed the rebellion and since he made sure that Finnick and Peeta aren't going to do anything other than sit up straight, smile, and obey. 

"A camera crew should go back with you, I think," Snow says. He stirs sugar slowly into his tea. "The whole world is going to want to see your beautiful son, and we shouldn't deprive them, should we?"

"No, sir," Finnick answers. "When do I leave?" He imagines Annie's face when he shows up with a Capitol camera crew. 

"You are so fucked," Johanna hisses into his ear, and the blunt edges of her nails dig hard into his shoulder until he swears that she breaks the skin. It's strange that he misses her the most. 

"Tonight," Snow answers. He sits back in his chair, assured that he's secured his throne. 

...

He doesn't sleep on the train. He sits in the main compartment and watches the night go streaking past. He doesn't know any of the people who are traveling with him. Everyone he once knew has been replaced with strangers, as if anyone who came into contact with him was suspect. They probably were, Finnick thinks. Anyone who ever worked him with him is probably dead now. 

He wonders if they disappeared one by one, or if they were supposedly killed by District Thirteen, too. 

Finnick doesn't sleep. He obsesses over where things went wrong. He tries to pinpoint when Snow decided to eliminate them, when he sorted out what was going to happen. Did he know before all of his Victors were brought to the Capitol, or did he only see it when they were all gathered together? Did he see it when they were all holding hands on stage that night? 

They were all taken in the middle of the night after those interviews. None of them ever went into the arena -- all that careful planning on how to get them out of there safely, and they all woke up somewhere else. Isolated. Splendid job building up the team when Snow intended on separating them. 

Snow makes up a war to cover the real war. He says that the rebels have taken the Victors, says that they wanted to take away something that meant so much to the Capitol, to the districts. (If the Capitol can even sense the irony of that, Finnick doesn't know.) What he does know is that he's tortured for weeks by Snow's men who pretend to be Coin's men while Snow destroys Districts 12 and 13. What he does know is that every single Victor except for himself and Peeta is murdered on television. It's a different type of game. When he and Peeta come back, Snow gives them back to the Capitol, saying, look, look, I saved two Victors for you. Look how gracious I am. The Capitol celebrates while the districts understand that there is no revolution to be had; they have no one left to fight, no where left to go. 

Finnick smiles while he's on the streets of the Capitol and wishes he had been one of the Victors who had been killed. Aren't you lucky, everyone says when they see him, touching him as if to make sure he's real. Aren't you lucky to have survived. 

Finnick smells the ocean before he can see it in the dark. The smell of it nearly makes him sick for a moment, because he has no home any longer. It seems like years since he heard that he was going back into the arena, since he heard his name called. Since he held Annie in his arms, and kissed her as if his very life depended on her, and promised that, when he came home next, he was going to bring a better life home to her. I lied, he thinks. 

On the seat opposite him on the train, Mags appears, nestled in between one of the cameramen and all of his equipment. She won't look at him. Finnick thinks that's just about right. 

He dozes for awhile after the train stops, before it's too early for them to actually depart. He can hear the voices of the crew all around him; mostly they talk about him, about what a poor dear he is, about how he's still good looking he is despite everything -- about how lucky they all are. After all, if they could have chosen which Victors were going to come home, Finnick Odair was definitely going to be at the top of that list. 

Imagine that.

When he opens his eyes again, he's dressed in something else, and there's a layer of makeup to hide that he's too pale, that there are dark smears underneath his eyes. In short, he looks like Finnick Odair again. 

He wonders if anyone has warned Annie of what's coming, and he pleads to all of the gods he no longer believes in that someone has. 

When he gets off the train, two of his sisters are waiting for him. Sara begins crying the moment she sees him. She doesn't wait until he's fully off the train before she runs at him, wrapping her arms so tightly around him that he's certain the stitches along his back are going to open up again. She's young enough that she doesn't clearly remember a time before he was a Victor. She's young enough that she could still be reaped. He smells the ocean in her hair, and she's wearing a bracelet of shells that clink together when she reachers down to take his hand. She's unaware of the cameras that are clicking madly, taking picture after picture. 

Aerona keeps her distance. She doesn't move, but holds her place in the sand as she stares at Finnick. She smiles, small and tight, as if he's a stranger. Which isn't untrue, Finnick thinks. 

"Welcome home," she says softly, leaning in to a press a gentle kiss to the top of one of his cheeks when he's near enough. They walk across the beach, and Finnick is all too aware that he can't feel the sand through the shoes he's wearing. His steps feel ungainly. Sara talks the entire way back, and he can't listen, but he's grateful. Aerona is silent. They turn into Victors' Village, and for a moment, he stalls, because all he sees is Mags' house, now empty. Sara doesn't stop talking, and Aerona places a hand on his lower back, and the moment is smoothed over as if it's never there. 

You begged her to bring me home, Finnick thinks, remembering Aerona's tears. I suspect you wouldn't make the same plea now. 

They walk past Annie's house as well, and go straight to his. His house is the only one brimming with activity. His other two sisters, three of his aunts, and his father are in the kitchen. There's a deluge of tears and hugs as soon as he walks inside, and the flash of the cameras is faster. (He remembers all too clearly the way the cameras had been trained on him when he was being held in the Capitol. Maybe this is some of the same camera crew.) 

You're falling out of character, Johanna says lazily from where she's leaned against the stove near the back of the kitchen. 

He is. He sweeps his aunts up in hard hugs, endures their kisses, the way they complain about the fact that he's too thin and that he needs to take better care of himself. His father shakes his hand without saying anything, but that, at least, is nothing new. His father hasn't been able to look him in the eye since he came out of the arena. He prefers when Finnick isn't home. They don't have to pretend to be a normal family then. They can just be. 

The air in the kitchen is overly warm from the dinner they're making, and they don't linger there long. The oldest of Finnick's aunts gathers up his hands and tugs him toward the stairs. She wags her fingers briefly at the clutch of reporters and photographers, warning them that they need to be quiet now, and they all smile, like this is a good-natured adventure. To them, it is. 

Finnick thinks he's going to be sick. His heart is lodged in his throat, and he thinks he would take the arena again over this. He would take the weeks of torture again, and he would take having to watch the expression on Peeta's face after he saw what was done to Katniss. They turn onto the second floor and the sounds and smells of the kitchen fade away. He hears his mother humming a lullaby, one that he remembers from a different lifetime. 

His aunt let go of his hands and Finnick lingers in the doorway for a moment. His eyes go implicitly toward the bed first. Annie is asleep there, her hair tied up and away from her face. A few stray strands still curl across her forehead. She's sleeping more deeply than Finnick has ever seen her. She's been drugged, Finnick realize. One of his sisters -- probably Aerona. It's a relief. She won't have to deal with the cascade of cameras in her face. Most of the things that mark the room as theirs are gone as well. There are some shells on the beside table, but their pictures are gone. Finnick has been erased from this room, which he thinks, is probably true of his entire life.

There's a startled cry from the direction his mother is sitting in, and it's only then that Finnick realizes that everyone is waiting for him to move. He looks, and sees a fat hand waving out of the bundle his mother is holding. She looks up at him and Finnick crosses the room slowly. She rises to meet him, and Finnick looks down at the boy she's holding. (Do you know what I heard, he hears Caesar say.) And even this young, he can see himself in the boy. 

For the first time in weeks, all the ghosts fade to the background. His mother passes the baby over to him, her actions slow; it's difficult to tell if she's just being cautious or if she's scared that he's going to hurt the baby. She fits his small head into the crook of Finnick's arm and he stares down at the kid, forgets about the camera crew watching him. 

"His name is Tristan," his mother says softly, smoothing the blanket more firmly along the baby. 

Finnick nods automatically without looking away. Tristan stares back at him. His and Annie's baby, he thinks. He takes a moment -- a stolen moment, just for him -- to marvel over that. That he and Annie brought something so small and perfect in the world. So beautiful, and so frighteningly vulnerable. Tristan fusses and Finnick rests his hand against Tristan's stomach, rocks his body as if they're in the ocean, and Tristan settles back down. The boy is still full of the sea, Finnick realizes. He's full of Annie and the love that's surrounding him. It's Finnick who brings the fear into the room, who brings the false flattery of the Capitol. But for now, this boy is still protected from him, and he thinks that has to be something, doesn't it. 

He sits down on the bed and holds Tristan for a long time, until the baby falls asleep, and until the camera crew decides they've got enough photographs of him to fill several magazines. 

I'm sorry, Finnick thinks. I won't be here for any of the moments you need me. I'll miss most of your life. I'll pretend you don't exist, because that is the only way I'll know how to protect you. But please know that I will always love you. I will always love your mother. 

He looks up when the room starts to grow dark. His mother is still watching him. She looks old. There's too much grey in her hair, and there are too many lines on her face. He cries for the first time since he came back, and she reaches forward to hold his hand. Neither of them dare to say anything.

...

Dinner is easier. His family is loud enough that all he has to do is smile and laugh, and some of it is real. Katniss sits to his left, Mags to his right, and Johanna sits at the head of the table. Haymitch never leaves the alcohol. 

He does try to sleep, but gives up after a few hours. He goes down to the beach. He strips down to his bare skin, and feels the sand cake onto his feet, slide between his toes. He walks into the tide, and the sea water stings sharp at the still-healing wounds on his back. He could give himself up to the sea, he thinks. He should give himself up to the sea. He walks out and ducks under, holds his breath, but he always ends up coming back up. 

Instead, he floats on his back, stares up at the dark abyss of stars above him, and enjoys the anonymity of the moment. He isn't Finnick Odair right now. The moon rotates around him, trekking her way through the sky. Finnick closes his eyes, trusts the sea not to drown him. 

He wakes up on shore, caked entirely in sand. He isn't Finnick Odair right now; he isn't even human right now. His head is in Johanna's lap. Her fingers card through his hair. 

You should kill him now, she says. She's not angry. She's resigned. He's never heard her sound this way before. It'd be a mercy, she points out. He'll never be anything more than your son. He will always be in danger.

"Annie would never forgive me," Finnick says, still tired.

Annie is never going to forgive you anyway, Johanna laughs.

"Haunt someone else for a change, would you?"

Who else do I have to haunt, Finnick, she asks. She leans down and kisses his forehead. He falls back asleep. 

He doesn't wake up until dawn streaks the sky a bloody red. Aerona stands over him, lips pursed thin with disapproval. Finnick looks blearily up at her. 

"What is wrong with you?" she asks, voice taught. 

What isn't, Finnick thinks. He stumbles to his feet and his back screams in agony. There's sand in his stitches, which shouldn't have been wet in the first place, but then again, the whole point of them was to scar. Aerona pushes him back up to the house, and since everyone is still asleep, she sits him down at the kitchen table and begins to work on his back. She doesn't ask him if he wants anything for the pain, which is fine, because he doesn't want it anyway. He stares at the far wall as she gives up and just takes the stitches out entirely. She cleans the torn flesh. She's bandaging him back up when Sara comes bounding into the room. She freezes in the doorway. 

"Finnick," she says, voice going high. She closes the distance between them slowly, tilting her head as she inspects the long gashes along his back. "I don't understand why the Capitol couldn't heal these," she says, fingertips lingering near a patch of unharmed skin. She looks up at Aerona. "They've healed worse, haven't they?" 

Finnick shuts his eyes.

"I don't pretend to know more than Capitol doctors," Aerona answers curtly. "What do you need?" 

"Annie's awake," Sara says. Finnick's eyes snap open. He's barely patient enough for Aerona to finish with his chest. She pushes a pair of pants at him, and then he's up the steps, taking them two at a time. He knows the camera crew will still be asleep, tucked away in Annie's house, and he's going to take every moment he has with Annie. His mother is just leaving the room when he arrives, holding a sleeping Tristan. Finnick brushes by her, and then there's Annie -- hair down, haloed around her head. 

He shuts the door heavily behind him and crosses the room, gets down on his knees beside the bed and gathers up both of her hands in his. He kisses her hard, and she's pliant beneath him. He pulls back slowly, rests his forehead against hers, and just wants to stay there and listen to her breathe, but instead she pulls back. She turns her head so that she can look up at him. Her brow wrinkles with confusion. 

Annie tugs her hands out from underneath his and brings them upward. Her finger cup his face, but her touch isn't the gentle and familiar one he's used to. Her fingers are exploring, like they're trying to map out his face. They slide down the clean line of his nose and over his lips. Her eyes narrow. 

"This isn't your face," she breathes out. There's a dawning horror in her expression, her eyes going wide and mouth pinching downward. She looks like she's about to cry. 

"Who are you?" she asks, hands moving down to land on his chest. She pushes hard, and it's with more strength than he expects, so he stumbles backward.

"Annie," he says beseechingly. "It's me. It's Finnick." 

"Don't use his voice!" Annie shrieks. She curls up on herself at first, fingers clawing at her ears, eyes snapped shut. Her legs are up near her chest, as if she's working on making herself as small as possible. 

"Annie," he says again. He tries to reach for her, because he needs her so desperately. The time he has with her is going to be short -- it's going to become something so small now, and he just -- If he's going to survive -- 

"Who are you?" she cries, flinching away from him. "I saw him die. I saw him die." She keeps saying it, and Finnick retreats. And it's then that she springs forward, catching him hard with her nails down one side of his face. (She's not a Victor for nothing, he remembers blandly.) She pushes him hard, and her small fists pound against his chest with more intensity than he'd imagined. He doesn't fight her. He does nothing. He lets her rail against him, takes every hit that she's got while she screams at him. 

Sara gets into the room first, shoves Finnick out of the way, and then just wraps her arms around Annie. Annie crumples in against her, and keeps saying, Finnick, Finnick, as if he really is dead. 

Sara shushes her and holds her tight. She brushes away Annie's tears, gets her to calm down, and then nods at Finnick to leave the room. Finnick does as he's told, and the last thing he hears is Annie asking where Tristan is. 

He leaves on the train that afternoon and Aerona is the only one who comes to see him off.

"We'll take care of them," Aerona promises into his hair as she hugs him tight. What she means is, You're not needed here. He nods in agreement.

One of his stylists drugs him on the way back, and he sleeps on the train. When he wakes up, Annie's scratches are gone. 

...

"How wonderful it must be," Caesar says under glaring bright lights, "To have a son now of all times! In a time of reaffirmed safety for Panem! Bringing new life into this world. It's just so wonderful, isn't it, Finnick?" He presses a hand against Finnick's arm and Finnick smiles down at the crowd that has tears in their eyes, already in love with Tristan Odair.

...

Whenever he goes to see Peeta, Katniss shows up. Johanna is never there for these moments, but Katniss is always pushed into the dark corners of the room, following Peeta with her eyes. She flickers like a flame, conversely sending off light and darkness. She never says anything, and Finnick never asks Peeta if he can see her, too. 

There's always some fanfare when Finnick walks into Peeta's pastry shop, located in the downtown area of the Capitol. It's easier to smile when they're together. It's a stronger lie for some reason, and it's easier to fall back on. At least for the public. They'll retreat once they've dealt with the audience, and go upstairs into Peeta's apartment, where they have as much privacy as any place in the city.

"I'm sorry," is the first thing that Peeta says as he makes a cup of tea for Finnick. Sometimes, Finnick wonders which of them is in a worse position. Finnick, with all his family and all his ties, or Peeta, who has no one of his own anymore. He doesn't ask Peeta why doesn't try to act out on his own -- because there's no point, but also because Peeta won't do anything to put Finnick's family at risk. This is why they came back when everyone else was killed. So valuable, so popular. More easily controlled. Too caring. But still survivors. Always survivors. 

Finnick begins to dig into the plate of sweets that Peeta has left for him without saying anything. He feels Peeta's eyes on him. He feels Katniss' eyes on Peeta. 

"Is he-?" Peeta starts to say, but then trails off, embarrassed.

"Mine?" Finnick swallows around a muffin. "Yes." 

"Is he okay? Is Annie?" Peeta asks, and doesn't bother to ask if Finnick is okay. 

 

"Annie didn't recognize me," Finnick says flatly, giving voice to the words that he knows to be true. He lets them pinch his heart, lets them barb inside of him. 

"Shit," Peeta says, and the words sounds so strange on Peeta's lips that Finnick can't resist smiling. He ducks his head down. Eats a scone. He wishes his talents were in baking instead of just being a pretty thing on someone's arm. 

Peeta doesn't say anything for a long time after that. He stares at the window, looking out across the Capitol. He's aged, too. Finnick has the sudden desire to tell him that he's sorry, that they should have done better to save him and Katniss. They had all made a plan that centered around the two of them, and they had failed them both. But all the apologies in the world aren't going to change the fact that Peeta's family is dead, that his home is obliterated, and that he's stranded here in the Capitol, where the only thing he has to get up for is to bake and ice cupcakes. It won't be like that forever, Finnick knows, and he wonders how much of that Peeta understands. There will be other tasks eventually. Snow will probably pick out some young girl for Peeta to marry, and they'll have beautiful children, and Peeta will become a spokesperson for some organization in the Capitol. He'll always be a staple of life here, his position evolving as Snow sees fit.

"Will Tristan stay in District Four?" Peeta asks, not bothering to drop his voice low, because if they're being observed, they're being observed.

Finnick meets Peeta's gaze, and he thinks that Peeta has a perfect grasp of what's going on. 

"For now," Finnick says neutrally, and what he means is, For as long as I can fucking help it. Which means nothing. 

...

The Seventy-Sixth Annual Hunger Games come and go. Finnick mentors, and feels nothing at all when both of his tributes are dead within twenty-four hours. He had felt a small swell of relief when Sara's name wasn't called. District One wins, and the parties in the Capitol are louder and more vibrant than ever, and nothing at all has changed. 

On Tristan's first birthday, Peeta sends him a beautiful cake in one of the chilled cars of the train. It's chocolate with seashells on it, and crests of blue frosting that look just like the waves in District Four. 

Finnick doesn't go back to District Four, because he's being fucked over Snow's desk. He watches the replays of the memorial services they held for the dead Victors on the television in front of his face. The glowing image of Katniss in her mockingjay dress takes up every inch of the screen, her face painted in wonder and then strength as she takes in her own wings. Her chin lefts, face fierce, face alight. Caesar is crying quiet but obvious tears as he takes in the video. 

"A Victor we lost much too young," Caesar says. "It was a shame that we never had the opportunity to know Katniss Everdeen outside of the arena, and never had the chance to show her the love she deserved here in the Capitol." 

Johanna is filing her nails in front of Finnick's face. His fingers are curled around the edge of the desk, and his back prickles with phantom sensations, even though the cuts have long since scabbed over.

Love, huh, Johanna says. Johanna's memorial is the shortest of all the Victors. They play the end of her games, where she stood with a bloodied axe in her hand, arm thrust above her head, intoxicated with the notion that she was free now. 

Love. Finnick thinks.

Finnick does go to District Four for Tristan's second birthday, but it's with a camera crew again. He tries to tell himself that it's okay, that he's made peace with the fact that he's not going to be anything in his son's life. But he is something this way. He's a camera, too. He's part of this odd crowd that every now and then invades Tristan's life. He hates that more than if they never saw each other again. 

Tristan is shy around him at first, hiding behind Annie's legs. She's fine when she sees him. She doesn't scream at him. She smiles softly -- but it's like the first time they met, and it makes Finnick happy and sad in equal measure. He smiles back, also soft. He manages to coax Tristan out eventually, and they spend most of the time on the beach, where Tristan shows him how he can swim, and they go fishing, and spend the day together until Tristan falls asleep on him. Tristan doesn't call him Dad. He doesn't call him anything. 

Finnick carries Tristan back home, and gives him to Annie, who stares up at him. She cups his face in one hand. 

"I miss him," she says.

"I know," Finnick answers. I do, too. Katniss leans in between them and smooths a hand over Tristan's flyaway blond hair. 

I was never going to be a mother, Finnick, she says, and her eyebrows knit closely together as if she's trying to sort out if she's upset by that. 

Peeta is engaged when Finnick comes home. They drink in Peeta's apartment until Finnick can't walk, and then Peeta brings up all of the cookies he made for the engagement party, and they eat all of them until they're sick. 

Finnick doesn't go back for Tristan's third birthday, or his fourth. By the time he goes back for his fifth, Finnick has already reconciled himself with what must be done. He's there for nearly a month this time, and he takes Tristan out every day, and they spend their time running along the beach, swimming out as far as they can go, and Finnick teaches Tristan the more difficult knots he knows. It's the first time that they've ever been alone together, and Tristan smiles easily. He's tan and happy, and loves being in the sea. Finnick envies him more than he can say; any time he feels that stab of envy, it's equalled by a gnawing sensation of guilt, because then he remembers that he's damned this boy. 

Finnick follows Tristan home every night, and Tristan sings all of the bawdy sea songs that his great-uncles have taught him without knowing what they mean. He messes up most of the words, and Finnick smiles -- smiles for himself, smiles without anyone ever watching. 

At the start of the second week, Annie cottons onto what he's doing. 

"Please," she begs him, waking him up in the middle of the night. He sleeps in a separate room, because he feels like he's just intruding upon her life now. She's built something here, and he's not a part of it any longer. "Please stop training him." 

She's crying. Not hysterically, but weeping quietly into the cup of her palms. 

"I can't," Finnick tells her, and he takes one of her hands in his and they cling to each other in the dark. 

Tristan trails him all the way to the train, clinging stubbornly to him. 

"Come back soon, Dad," Tristan begs when Finnick leans down to say good-bye. 

Finnick doesn't. 

The pictures of him and Tristan circulate the Capitol as they always do when he comes back. It's a strange new angle to his persona. 

"We're always afraid you're not going to come back to us," Caesar teases.

"How could I not?" Finnick asks, smiling, his mask more firmly in place than ever; the women of the Capitol love to ask him about his son. They love to see pictures of him playing with his son, and then they love for him to fuck them hard. They love claiming a piece of something that they think shouldn't be claimed. They feel like they're stealing something. They feel illicit. Finnick feels tired. 

He sees only a snatch of Tristan and Annie when he's in District Four for the Reaping. He brings home a District Four winner that year, and he's trapped in the Capitol for the parties that follow, for the memorial services that persist. He misses Tristan's birthday even though he sends gifts. (Peeta has to help him pick them out, because Finnick doesn't know if there's anything in the Capitol that's worth anything to a boy from Four. But they make do, and Peeta still sends sweets, which are probably worth more anyway.) 

Finnick does go home for Tristan's seventh birthday -- but Tristan is now old enough to understand that when Finnick comes, so do the cameras. And when the cameras come, the images of him go about the Capitol, and Finnick talks about him there. He's ashamed to think of Tristan watching those interviews, the one where Casear teases him about being a father. He doesn't argue when Tristan refuses to see him. 

He sits downstairs and eats bread with his sisters and mother, and listens to Tristan stomp angrily around upstairs, and listens to Annie's quiet voice wafting down to them as she tries to soothe away their son's worries. The camera crew wants to leave early, realizing that there's no story here this time. Finnick obliges, because he doesn't belong here. 

The same thing happens when Finnick returns to District Four for Tristan's eighth birthday. He leaves the presents he's brought, Peeta's cake, and gets right back on the train. When he steps off the train at the Capitol, there are two men waiting to take him to Snow. He's ushered off the train and into the back of a car. He smile and flirts the whole way there, trying to get some information out of them, but they're stalwart. They must've been warned about dealing with Finnick Odair. 

He's left to wait in the hallway, as if he's a naughty child. Johanna leans up against the wall beside him, staring at the ceiling.

Do you think he's going to kill you this time, Johanna asks. Finnick doesn't answer.

I wouldn't mind it, you know, she continues. I miss you. Katniss is always so damn moody.

"Where do you go when you're not with me?" he asks, looking down at her. She smiles, all enigmatic, sharp edges.

"Did you say something, Finnick?"

Finnick twists about to see Snow standing in the doorway. Finnick doesn't answer, just straightens and goes into the office. He sits down without being told, following the implicit orders that he's obeyed for years now. (He's been a Victor for more than half his life now. It's an odd thing to realize.)

Snow settles down across from him. And for all the people he watches age and change, Snow never does. Same white color to his hair, same thick beard. Same white rose in his lapel. Snow will never die, Finnick thinks dully. He'll outlive us all. 

"I hear young ... Tristan is having some difficulties," Snow says, pausing as if he needs to fish around for the name that he must know as well as Finnick's.

"He's a child," Finnick says flatly. 

"You were a child when you won your games," Snow corrects. Oddly, it's probably the most honest thing that Snow has ever said to him. Still, Finnick stares straightforward at Snow. He knows what Snow wants to hear: He will make Tristan fall in line. It's difficult to do that all these years later when he's barely a part of the boy's life. It's all a stage production, and it's a difficult thing to make an eight-year-old boy fall in line with that. 

"Let me talk to him without the cameras," Finnick says finally, and even he's surprised by how brazen the request is. He doesn't expect for a moment that Snow will comply. He's shocked when Snow looks at him for a measure moment and then gives a grave nod of his head. 

He doesn't have to mentor the next Hunger Games. Instead, he goes back to District Four by himself. No prep team. No cameras. No vestiges of the Capitol outside of himself. He hasn't done this since before their failed revolution. He keeps expecting to be captured again. He keeps expecting to be killed, but suddenly, it's just him and Sara, who is the only one there to greet him. She's very pregnant, and he's surprised to see it. He stares at her stomach openly, because he can't fathom deciding to bring a child into this world, but then, he's been about the world's worst father, so who he is to judge? She doesn't hug him like she did before, but eyes him a bit more warily. They're all wary around him, because they don't know how much of him is him anymore and how much of him is Snow. Before the revolution, most of his family had at least known that it was an act. Now, they think that the sea has been bled out of him and everything is plastic and artificial. Sometimes, he wonders that too. 

Mags steps off the train with him and breathes deep. There's a look of peace on her face that he doesn't know anymore. The wind whips her grey hair into her face. He hasn't seen her in years. 

I hope you stay here with Tristan, he thinks.

"He's already said he doesn't want to see you," Sara warns as they walk up to the house. 

"I know," Finnick answers. He doesn't bring gifts from the Capitol this year, just the cake that Peeta made. Peeta, who Tristan has never met, and who, with any luck, Tristan will never meet. 

"Finnick," Sara says, and she grabs him by the arm, halting him. He looks down at her, and she still looks so young. She's tanned and dressed in a seagreen skirt that wraps around her legs, a baggy white top that barely conceals the bump of her belly. "You could leave him alone," she suggests, voice tentative. 

"I can't," Finnick says, voice sad. 

The house is mostly quiet when he arrives even though his aunts are there, and his cousins with their children. There are babies and toddlers whose names he doesn't know. They're not happy to see him anymore when he returns, and the atmosphere is largely somber when he walks through the door. How I celebrate my son's birthday, he thinks. 

Tristan is hiding upstairs, but Finnick doesn't stay downstairs this time. He heads upstairs, and he goes to what he knows is Tristan's room. He doesn't knock on the door, just heads right in. 

Tristan is leaned against the windowsill. He is nine years old, and he looks painfully like Finnick did at that age. He's still a little short, but he'll hit a growth spurt soon. His hair is more wild than Finnick's, curling about his ears like Annie's does, but he's golden and sunkissed. He's tanned and has strong arms and calves, and glistening eyes that are too much like the sea. They're stormy now, fixating on Finnick in an instant.

"Just me," Finnick says, holding up his hands. "It's just me this time."

"I don't care," Tristan says, stubborn. 

"We need to talk anyway," Finnick tells him. "Come on." 

He doesn't know what makes Tristan give in, but he gets up anyway, the set of his shoulders still terse. They walk down the stairs and past the rest of the family. Finnick's father is staring at him hard, a challenge implicit, and Finnick thinks, I am not wrong this time. 

They go down to the beach, Tristan a few paces ahead of him. He remembers the only time Tristan has ever called him "Dad." They walk out along the pier, and the grip of the wind is a little cold against Finnick's skin, but he sinks into it. He lets himself feel something. Finnick walks them right down to the edge and only then does he sit down. Tristan sighs heavily, but sits down too, putting as much distance between the two of them as possible.

"Do you know why I live in the Capitol?" Finnick asks. He's certain that Annie would think he's too young to have this conversation.

He's three years from his first Reaping, Johanna says; she's leaned against his back.

"Because you're a Victor," Tristan answers, impatient.

"Because," Finnick corrects, "If I didn't do what President Snow said, he would hurt your mother, and he would take you away from her."

Tristan is silent. 

"I don't want the cameras to come either," Finnick tells him, facing him finally. He knows Tristan is listening, can see his son silently ingesting all this information with a keen intelligence. "But I don't have a choice." 

"What's the point in being a Victor if you can't do what you want?" Tristan asks, confused. 

Finnick looks back out at the sea, and even Johanna is quiet this time. What a question, he thinks. And what an answer. There's too much to it, too much that he knows he can't explain. Too much that Tristan can never understand. 

"It's just me this time," Finnick continues, an echo of his words from earlier. "For a month. You can talk to me or you can't. But the cameras will come back, probably next year, and the year after that, and always. And you can protect your mother too, just by letting them take pictures of you. Do you understand, Tristan?" 

He feels dirty inside. He's teaching his son a grotesque lesson here, one that he has followed since he was fourteen years old. He wants to be able to break the cycle for Tristan, but he doesn't know how. He thinks that dream died a long time ago with a mockingjay.

"I understand," Tristan responds.

How remarkably like his father, Johanna laughs just like the way she did when she found out that Tristan had been born.

Finnick nods. He supposes that the conversation is over, and is surprised when Tristan speaks again.

"Will I be reaped?" he asks.

Finnick doesn't answer right away. He stares at the seas that are in the distance, watching them roll in closer, breaking against the legs of the pier.

"Yes," he answers finally, admitting to what his gut has told him ever since Caesar Flickerman told him that he had a son; the Capitol loves Tristan already. Snow won't give up the chance of having a son of two Victors in the arena. Especially not when he's his son. 

"You were training me when I was younger, right?" Tristan asks.

"Your mother didn't want me to." Finnick answers honestly.

"I want you to," Tristan responds. 

They don't talk for the rest of the evening. When they head in, they eat dinner, and they all play at being a family. They enjoy the cake Peeta has sent. Annie hovers too close to Tristan and she won't look Finnick in the eye. She senses something, and Finnick longs to ease her worries. He doesn't sleep in the house. He sleeps on the beach again, and when morning breaks, Tristan meets him, and Finnick begins to teach him how to use a trident. He shows him the lunges, how to be deft with his hands, how to pivot with his body so that there are no places open. He shows him how to find fresh water and how to make fishhooks. (Mags hums her approval.) He shows him the knots again, and when it's time for Finnick to go back to the Capitol, he leaves a list of things for Tristan to practice while he's gone. 

He's surprised, when on the last day he's there, Annie comes to join him. He's watching Tristan swim out into the sea, strong stroke after stoke. Annie sneaks up on him, and slips her hand into his, holds him close. They don't talk at first, because Finnick doesn't know what to say to her any longer. He wants to tell her that he still loves her. That she deserves better, and he's sorry. 

"Sometimes," Annie begins, a familiar and quiet note of shyness that always makes Finnick want to kiss her. "I think about what it would be like if Tristan could have siblings. If we were all a family here." Annie's voice is soft, and Finnick doesn't look at her, just clings to her hands as his heart swells with hurt. "I think about how you would teach them all to fish, and how we'd live off the sea, and there wouldn't be enough room in our home, but we'd be happy."

He turns toward her, slides his hand along her neck and lets it tangle in her hair. He presses their foreheads together and listens to the sound of her breathing. 

"It's hard," Annie says, voice breaking. She cups her hand on top of his. "Because they took you away, but I have to pretend you're still here."

And I'm not, Finnick finishes for her. 

"I still love you," Finnick whispers. "I will always love you. I want you to be happy, and if there's --"

"There's never anyone else," Annie murmurs, kisses him softly. "It will only ever be you."

He kisses her with more depth, the first real kiss they've shared in years. This is what I was fighting for, he remembers. This is what we were all fighting. This freedom to love and be at peace. 

Tristan and Annie see him off at the train. Annie hugs him, and Tristan at least shakes his hand. Finnick looks at him, warning him with a look that next year the Capitol will be back. Tristan nods.

As Finnick boards the train, Haymitch slaps him on the back.

Congratulations, he says. You have a Career for a son.

...

Peeta's wife has had their first child when Finnick returns to the Capitol. It's a little girl, who looks absolutely nothing like Katniss Everdeen. She's pale and small with curly blond hair. She smiles wide when the cameras take her pictures. Peeta brings her down to the bakery sometimes and on those day, people line up around the block to catch a glimpse of Gemma Mellark. 

When Finnick meets her for the first time, he tosses her in the air and she laughs, and the cameras go wild. He slips her some mushed up bits of cupcake, and winks at the cameras, because he figures that what's he supposed to do.

He and Peeta retreat upstairs, which is just a place where Peeta comes to hide sometimes. Peeta puts Gemma down for her nap and stares at her for a long time. Finnick continues eating the rest of the cupcakes by himself. 

"I had a terrible thought the other day," Peeta confesses abruptly, brushing his daughter's hair away from her face. 

Finnick looks up, wondering what now qualifies as a terrible thought in Peeta Mellark's world. 

"I wondered the other day which was worse," Peeta says slowly. "To have my daughter, know her, and never have to worry about her safety. But to have her grow up here, where nothing is real. Or for you and Tristan. For him to have a great childhood ..." Peeta trails off.

"But to not ever know me, and to almost certainly be reaped?" Finnick finishes for him. 

Peeta looks embarrassed and looks away. 

"It's not a terrible thought," Finnick says. "We live in a terrible world."

Peeta looks at him, a flash of surprise in his eyes. Rarely does Finnick say anything so blunt these days. But there isn't a clear answer to Peeta's question; Tristan has years of the sea, of freedom; Gemma will always be bound in fashion, in vanity and things that don't matter. And she'll have as many years of that as she can survive. They both deserve better. 

Peeta works on smoothing Geema's hair out of her face again, and they don't talk again for the rest of the day. Finnick waits for a summons to Snow's office, and it never comes. 

He goes home for Tristan's tenth birthday, his eleventh, and the camera crews stay only for a week, but get all the shots they need. Finnick stays days, weeks longer, and they train. Finnick is told he's going to be a mentor the first year that Tristan is old enough to be in the Games, but Tristan isn't reaped when he's twelve or thirteen. 

He's reaped when he's fourteen. 

He knows he shouldn't be taken off guard by this. He's prepared for it Tristan's entire life, but the moment that Tristan's name is announced over the speakers, crackling over the word "Odair," Finnick's entire body goes cold. There's some odd shuffling in the crowd at first, because Tristan's always uses Annie's last name, and it takes an additional moment for everyone to figure out who it is that has been called. 

Finnick clenches his own hands more tightly behind his back. He wills himself not to react. The escort glances back at him, and she's practically brimming with excitement. Finnick doesn't smile back at her. He knows that he should. He knows that he should be wooing the crowd in this moment, because there are always sponsors to think of, but he's sure as hell not going to pretend to be happy right now. 

He can hear Annie crying in the background. Her face is buried in her hands, and his sisters have closed ranks around her. 

Tristan edges out of the crowd of fourteen-year-olds, and Finnick has a strange moment of deja vu. He remembers what it felt like, of course, making his way up to the stage. But he's seen what he looked like when he walked up there, and it's astounding just how much Tristan looks like him. Of course, Tristan isn't smiling. Finnick had played the crowd even then; Tristan's mouth is a thin, determined line, his shoulders squared, each of his steps measured as he mounts the small platform. He walks past Finnick without looking at him, takes his place next to the escort. 

You should have killed him when he was a baby, Johanna says. She's crying angry tears; he's never seen her cry before, he realizes, belatedly. 

Their escort trills out the ever-familiar, "May the odds be ever in your favor!" And that's it. They're off stage then, Tristan taken to a room where he can say good-bye. Finnick waits near the train, feels his heart still stuttering in his chest. He wonders how he's going to get through this. He sits down heavily and shoves his face into his hands. 

He's surprised when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't heard anybody walk up next to him. He looks up, and it's Annie. Her eyes are lined with red, and she looks like she's barely able to keep herself from crying again. Finnick pulls her against him instantly, and they cling to teach other. He presses his face into her hair and tries to remember how to breathe as Annie shakes beneath him.

"Bring him home, Finnick," Annie begs. "Bring him home." 

He doesn't want to lie to her. She always sees straight through them, so he doesn't say anything at all. 

You'd be better off killin' him on the train, Haymitch says lazily, leaned up against the wall. That boy wins, and he's going to be on his back within thirty minutes of his last kill.

Katniss glares at him and Haymitch shrugs.

Sorry if I offended you, sweetheart, he drawls. You think they waited until Daddy Odair here was of age? 

Annie's not going to forgive him either way, Johanna adds, stalking around all of them with a predatory glint in his eyes he remembers too well. 

"Bring him home, Finnick," Annie begs, and Finnick thinks, I don't know how.

...

It's the quietest train ride Finnick has ever been on, and that's something. Their escort trills at first about how exciting this all is, how they're making history; Tristan is the first son of two Victors to be reaped, and he's going to be mentored by his father, and how grand is everything. When it becomes apparent that even Finnick isn't going to try and smile and flirt with her, she leaves them alone. 

Finnick doesn't try to talk to Tristan, who seems to share his penchant for silence at the moment. He looks pale, but is still wearing the same set look of determination.

When they arrive at the Capitol, the crowd is so thick that the train is delayed for an hour while they try to clear people out of the way. Tristan stands at the window and watches the hoards of people who are there explicitly to see him. 

A group of women at the front catch sight of Tristan; two burst into tears, and one faints. 

To the newest model, Haymitch toasts from across the car, and Finnick just wants to tell him to shut the fuck up for three seconds, because he can't think clearly. But there's that creeping doubt now, that seed that's taken hold in Finnick's mind; is it better for Tristan to win if he's just going to become what Finnick is? He couldn't tell Annie that he would bring him home, because he can't. Tristan can die in the arena, or he can win, and then he'll come back to the Capitol. 

He watches his son, watches the tight set of his shoulder, the way he stares out at the crowd without smiling. The doors to the train finally slide open; the girl tribute and her mentor are almost instantly whisked away, but Finnick and Tristan are mobbed when they step out. Hands push forward, trying to touch them in anyway they can, brushing over arms and chests. Tristan looks forward the entire time. He doesn't smile, and Finnick can't find it in himself to reproach Tristan for this. He does smile and he does wave though, because that's what he's been trained to do. It's unlikely that he's going to need any additional help getting sponsors this year, but he's not going to take any chances. He's charmed more money out of the Capitol than any other Victor. 

They're in the station for so long that two trains from other districts arrive. Two and Five. Great. He can see the heads of their Victors bob for a moment, taking everything in. A sure target has been painted on Tristan's back, but he continues to take everything in stride. 

They finally get inside the training facility, head up to the fourth floor. It's a strange moment of quiet when the doors to the elevator close, and it's just him and Tristan -- for the first time since Tristan was reaped. Johanna doesn't slip into the elevator with them. 

"I have a good chance of winning, don't I?" Tristan asks, staring at the doors in front of them.

"Yes," Finnick answers honestly. There are always so many variables. So many things that he can't foresee. But Tristan will have more sponsors than anybody else -- certainly more than what Finnick had. The arena will be a surprise, but Tristan has a better grasp on what to expect than even Careers who have trained for years. He has an unflinching view on what you need to survive, and what happens to a Victor afterward. 

"Do you want me to win?" Tristan asks, and Finnick, as always, is surprised by the question, by his son's insight into everything that's happening.

Finnick doesn't answer. Tristan doesn't press him. 

They launch into preparation for the opening ceremonies almost right away. The stylist wants to dress Tristan up in the outfit that Finnick had originally worn for his game, but Finnick flatly refuses that idea; Tristan isn't him. They're going to see too much of him to begin with. They end up going with the same cut of costume, but with more gold and green to balance out the blue. Before Tristan leaves the room, Finnick gives him the necklace he's worn since before Tristan was born.

"Your mother made it for me," Finnick says quietly, and for the first time since the Reaping, he sees a flicker of emotion on Tristan's face. Tristan wraps his fingers tightly around the pointed arrow at the end of the necklace.

"Thank you," he says, and leans in to wrap his arms around Finnick, holding him tight for a moment. It's the first time that Tristan has hugged him since he was six. Finnick blinks, shuts his eyes. 

He watches Tristan climb into the chariot, and then he leaves, not needing to say anything further. He heads down to Peeta's, which is easy because the streets are cleared. There's a Hunger Games party already in the works when he arrives, something that Peeta has set up for him, he knows. There's a spattering of cheers and applause when he enters -- which is just before Tristan comes onto screen.

"Oh," one of the woman at his right sighs, clutching at his hand. "Oh, Finnick, he's so beautiful." 

He buys a round of drinks and he and Peeta are seen together almost all night -- until Finnick disappears with one person, and then returns to leave with another, and he's certain that, just from this single party, he's made more money than what was spent on his entire Hunger Games. 

He falls asleep in the upstairs half of Peeta's bakery, and Peeta brings him fresh clothes and lets him shower there in the morning. 

"I'm sorry," Peeta says quietly, in the same way that he did when Tristan was born. Finnick doesn't say anything -- and luckily, the moment doesn't last long because Gemma comes tearing into the room. She's dressed in something with too many pink ribbons and the bottoms of her hair is dyed to match. He sees so little of Peeta in her. 

"I want to meet Finnick's son," she announces with the air of someone who is used to getting everything she wants. 

"You'll meet him after he wins," Peeta tells her patiently as he serves them all breakfast. 

"I want to now," Gemma argues, and begins to wail when Peeta still doesn't give her what she wants. Finnick finishes his breakfast, listens as Peeta tries to placate his daughter's tantrum. Katniss stares darkly from the corner, as if she can't understand what the hell is happening.

"That's okay," Finnick says as he leaves the building. "Most days I can't understand either."

He goes back to the training building even though he knows there's not much he can do there. Tristan is at ease there at least, where there are less crowds. He has requests for alliances already, and Finnick lets Tristan sort through them however he wants, offering only pinches of advice. They eat dinner together, and Finnick goes out some nights to get more sponsors. (Tristan looks at him discerningly when he says this, as if he understand what Finnick is really saying. He probably does, Finnick knows. He probably does. He's had so many requests to just sneak Tristan out of the training center, to bring him out for the night. He cringes at all of these. He smiles, makes excuses, says that even he has to follow the rules.) He tries to stay in with Tristan more nights. If this is going to be the last days he spends with his son --

Soon enough, it's the night before the Hunger Games, and the interviews are coming up. They discuss little strategy here. There's nothing for Tristan to build upon. Everyone is already enthralled with him. They can't wait to see Finnick Odair's son. Finnick and Tristan both go to prep, and Finnick gets a seat down in the front row, neatly nestled in between the billionaires who have all had him at least once. 

One and Two are so similar that they all start to bleed together after all these years. The crowd gets impatient during Three, because they know that Tristan Odair is coming next, and they don't listen at all during District Four's girl's interview. (Finnick pities her, but he pities all these children now.)

The applause is so loud when Tristan walks on stage that it's almost deafening. The crowd is on their feet before Tristan says a single word. He doesn't wave, he doesn't smile. He holds his chin slightly aloft, looking only to Caesar. He shakes the man's hand, settles down in the chair. His body is loose, relaxed. 

From behind him, Katniss walks onto stage, and Finnick stares, mouth gone dry. She's wearing her mockingjay dress. He remembers the first time he saw it (the last time he saw it). Katniss stands behind Tristan and pins Finnick with hard eyes. The symbol of our revolution, he thinks, and he almost misses when Caesar begins to speak. 

"Tristan Odair," Caesar says in that way that he does when he's pretending to hold back his excitement. The crowd explodes again, and the applause takes up another slice of his interview time. Katniss slips forward, wraps one winged arm around Tristan and Finnick starts blinking. 

Tristan finally looks forward at the crowd and he does the smallest of smiles, the corners of his mouth dimpling. 

Caesar laughs and makes a play at quieting the crowd.

"You've got to give the boy a chance to speak," he teases in the microphone. "Because I think we all want to hear the things you have to say." 

"Thank you, Caesar," Tristan says evenly, his voice deeper than Finnick's had been at that age. His accent from Four is more prominent, too. (Finnick had been encouraged to hide his for something more neutral.)

"Well, Tristan," Caesar says now that the crowd has quieted. "I think, and I'm sure this will come as no surprise, is what we're all dying to know is, what is it like to have Finnick Odair for a father?"

"Oh, I hardly know," Tristan says, and he's smiling enough that it seems like he's teasing. "He's here with all of you far more than he's with me."

The audience titters with laughter, as if they're all sharing in some private joke. The cameras pan over to where Finnick is sitting, and he smiles obediently, tossing a hand up into the air. 

"Yes, yes," Caesar continues. He presses his hand against Tristan's knee for too long. "We all hope that will change very soon, don't we!" 

"I hope so too," Tristan says, and gives them an actual smile this time. The crowd erupts again. There are precious seconds left in Tristan's interview, and Caesar eats up most of them asking Tristan the sort of things Finnick has taught him, and how his strategy is different from his father's. Tristan tosses out the things they've done without omission, and shrugs his shoulders a little at the last bit.

"I think we're similar and pretty different," he says, and he looks down at Finnick as he says this; Finnick sees an imprint of a different Hunger Games. He sees all the Victors standing behind Tristan, hands clenched together in defiance, and he wonders what the hell he's gotten into. Johanna sits down on the stage in front of him, taps the blade of her ax a few times against the edge of her boot. 

He keeps waiting for her to say something, but she never does. When Tristan leaves the stage again, Katniss trails after him.

...

Finnick doesn't sleep all night. He goes up to the roof and stares at the stars, imagining that he's on the beach. All of the Victors are around him, much too loud. Katniss and Johanna sit beside him. Johanna takes his hand. 

It's almost over, Katniss says. Finnick nods automatically. He falls asleep, and wakes up feeling stiff and out of sorts. He feels old. He's not even 40 yet, but he's seen and done too many things, and his body -- his real body, not the plastic they keep putting over him -- is dulled with time. 

None of the Victors are around him anymore, and the city is strangely silent. It's too early for the Hunger Games parties to have started and too late for any ones from the previous night to be going on still. He gets up, heads back downstairs, and isn't surprised to find that Tristan is already awake. His hair is wet, and he looks tired as well.

"Are you all right?" Tristan asks, and Finnick appreciates what a ridiculous question it is. Finnick doesn't answer, what he always does when he's not interested in lying. They eat breakfast, and Tristan plays with the necklace he's wearing, seemingly lost in thought. Tristan's stylist is there then, putting on the small touches he can with the outfit they've been given. Finnick walks Tristan down to the hovercraft waiting to take him to the arena.

Tristan hugs him again, holding tight this time, and Finnick holds right back. He doesn't know how to say he's sorry, and that he's loved Tristan always, and he only hopes that single plea he made when Tristan was a baby has stayed with him always. That maybe he can just understand.

"I love you, Dad," Tristan murmurs. "I'll see you soon." He turns away from Finnick before he can say anything, boards the craft and then is gone.

Finnick is left standing on the ground in the middle of the still-sleeping Capitol. Johanna holds his hand on one side, Mags on the other. Katniss stands in front of him, and he wonders how they all got to this place. Sometimes, he feels like he stumbled through his own life, as if it's a series of moments that leave him spinning, wondering how he got to each one, and who is this boy (and then man) who is staring back at him in the mirror? He feels as if his own life is still halted at the moment that he walked onto that hovercraft, Mags holding tight to his hand, her fingers shaking. He wonders if she ever considered not bringing him home. He wonders if he should feel guilty for now understanding why Haymitch so readily let his tributes go in unprepared. 

I used to say we're survivors, Haymitch says. Not even sure we're that, really. 

"I know," Finnick says, voice curling into the early morning air. He imagines that he can still hear a trace of his accent.

You gonna send him that cyanide? Haymitch asks, adding too many syllables to the word.

"No," Finnick answers, still staring up at the sky. There's no point. At fourteen, you think you can still win this. You can overcome the system, be the one who makes the difference. Katniss looks at him over her shoulder. They never overcome the system. 

He goes back to the empty floor that belongs to District Four. He sinks down into the couch, and turns on the television. The tributes are just rising up in their tubes -- a water-based arena, and he wonders if that's good or not. The arena is littered with half submerged buildings, all are strange angles and half-covered with plants and moss. It oddly resembles District Four, as if the sea had swallowed it. Finnick suppresses a shudder. Tristan comes up moments later.

"My, he does look like his father, doesn't he," Claudius Templesmith comments and both he and Caesar laugh. 

Finnick leans in. The cornucopia is at the top of one of the buildings. It will take swimming and then climbing to get to it. He watches Tristan shift, examining each of his opponents. Tristan is going to go for it. Finnick clenches his hands together, and he can practically hear Annie crying even though she is hundreds of miles away. 

We'll be okay, he thinks. We can survive this too -- but he wonders if it's a lie.

The countdown begins, ticking closer and closer. Then it's at one, and Finnick holds his breath. Tristan is off the pedestal the moment zero hits. He swims in clean, fast strokes that Annie taught him when he was practically a baby. He gets to the building first, and his footing is a little more uncertain as he starts to climb, but he manages it. One of the District Two tributes makes it up to the top before he does, and Tristan has to roll out of the way on the side of the building to avoid a thrown knife. He scrambles up after that, and assesses what he needs. There's a trident, and Tristan goes for that first.

"His father's son," Caesar echoes excitedly as Cladius exclaims, "Ah!" 

Tristan also grabs a backpack full of food and shoulders a length of rope. He plunges the tips of the trident into District Two's chest and pulls it away wetly. (Finnick still dreams of that feeling, of his first kill, of his last kill, of how good it felt to know that everyone he killed made it so he was a step closer to surviving.)

Tristan doesn't bother with any of the other tributes climbing up the sides. He runs across the top of the slanted building, stares down at the water, and then dives. He plummets several stories in a perfect arch, trident still at his side. He breaks into the water and begins to swim away. The cameras only follow for him an instant, too caught up in the carnage just beginning at the cornucopia. 

Finnick remembers to breathe again. He sits back against the couch. 

His son is still alive.

This is the most I can hope for, he reminds himself. 

The cornucopia dies down about an hour later. He waits for the cameras to find Tristan again. They find the pair from District One easily -- they've teamed up with the survivor of Two, the girl from Four. But there's no sign of Tristan. Finnick frowns. 

Another hour passes and another. Casear comments on how well Tristan Odair must be hiding. There's no sign of Tristan all night. He gets up, begins to pace.

You'd know if he was dead, Johanna says, arm still curled around the back of the couch. 

Finnick paws back through all the footage they've shown. Slowly, he realizes that neither tribute from District Three has been seen, and neither has one of the tributes from District Seven.

"What's happening?" he asks under his breath as Katniss comes to stand at his side. 

Peeta. He doesn't know what's happening, but he has the sudden inclination that he and Peeta should be together for whenever it does happen. He rushes to the door, grabs his coat, and leaves the television on.

Finnick, Johanna says sharply.

He opens the door and almost runs right into two of Snow's men. 

"President Snow requests your presence, Mr. Odair," one of the two says.

Finnick's stomach flips, tightens, ties into a thousand knots. He's not dumb enough to not be concerned that Snow is calling for him -- but if he is, that also means that something is happening. Finnick isn't wrong. His heart rises even as both of the men grab him by the arms, steer him down the hall. In the background, Johanna begins to scream while Katniss marches after him. 

He's not taken to President Snow's office. He's marched right through Gamemaker Central, a place that even he hasn't been before even though he's heard about it plenty of times. (Plutarch Heavensbee winks at him from the corner.)

He's taken to an adjacent room where Snow is waiting. He can see that the president is just barely hiding a simmering rage. Finnick is pushed down into the chair, and he laughs, unable to help himself, a high, hysterical sound. Snow nods, and the guards disappear. It's just him and Snow, and Finnick unfurls into the chair, thinks of all the ways he's killed people. 

Not just you and Snow, Katniss practically growls. 

"Where are they?" Snow snarls. 

"I don't know," Finnick answers honestly. He smiles his Capitol-winning smile.

His father's son, Haymitch laughs wildly from a corner, saluting the president with a tip of whatever drink he's holding. 

"You don't know?" Snow says, fury curling in the corners of his mouth, bright and red. "Do you think, Odair, that I won't have done to him exactly I had done to you?" He comes too close, places a hand on each arm of the chair that Finnick is sitting in, pins him in. Finnick looks unflinchingly back up at him. It's a beautiful change of pace to hold no cards. Snow can make whatever moves he wants. There is nothing Finnick can do. He's not a player in this game. 

A side door opens and two guards push Annie into the room. She stares steadily forward, and she doesn't cry, doesn't look confused. She sinks down into the chair beside Finnick. She stares past the screens that can't find Tristan. 

Snow snarls and sputters and threatens, but all Annie does is reach for Finnick's hand. Finnick grasps it tight, their fingers threaded together as they wait for the news of what's happened to their son. 

Not just his father's son, Johanna amends slyly as Snow storms out of the room, back to his gamemakers, desperate to find his stolen tributes.

Finnick and Annie are left there for hours under the watchful eye of Snow's men. They don't try to talk because there's no point. They just hold tight to each other, and it's like the minutes before Annie had gone into the arena all over again. Both of them assured of their position, working toward the same goal. 

They watch the tributes from Eleven die. The boy from Ten, both of the tributes from Five, and still there is no sign of the missing tributes -- of Tristan. Caesar and Claudius are no longer wondering where Tristan Odair is, because they've been instructed not to wonder.

"I love you," Annie says without warning, and that is when the screaming from the gamemakers begins. He kisses the back of her hand as the television feed of the game cuts out -- and ah, there is Tristan. Bloodied and bruised, but alive. He's no longer in the uniform given to the tributes, but he's still holding his trident. 

President Snow is on his knees in front of Tristan, the other escaped tributes fanned out behind him. 

You're going to be safe now, Katniss promises. It's going to be okay.

"I know," Annie answers. Finnick feels her fingers convulse around his.

The last thing Finnick sees before the guard throws the black bag over his head is his son sinking all three of the prongs into President Snow's chest. In the background, the ghost of Johanna Mason begins to laugh.


End file.
